


Everything I should have said

by rosie_red



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Desk Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Secret Relationship, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, stupid bots being stupid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-01-28 16:26:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12610708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosie_red/pseuds/rosie_red
Summary: Running an army together can take a toll on a relationship, especially when you can't let anyone know that relationship exists. Throw in the dangers of war, and it starts to get complicated.A.k.a, two bots learning not to sweat the small stuff, in a typically dramatic fashion.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ::comm speak::  
> bond speak in bold 
> 
> Just a short story about two of my faves. Should be about 4 chapters :)

 

Pain, white and hot. It was all consuming, arm and leg struts convulsing as wave after wave of agony bombarded them. The pain in his extremities was nothing compared to the overwhelming burn of his spark. The hurt was lapping at the edges of his vision, until all that came back was static. His audials still functioned, he could hear the sounds of his own desperate screams and sobs echoing in his processor, shrill and hysterical.

The burn was replaced with no warning. He gasped, crying out again as a new kind of pain licked at his insides. It was a freezing chasm, an intense nothingness that he could feel draining his remaining energy as it mutilated his frame. Servos –his own maybe?– grabbed at the pain, scoring deep lines into his chassis.

The last thing he registered before he succumbed to the tempting blackness, was his own terror, and the unforgiving ground slamming into his faceplate.

~~~

_2 days earlier._

::Prowl, report to my office. Bring your tactical proposal.::

The comm was shut off as quickly as it was opened.

_Sounds like someone’s in a bad mood,_ Prowl thought to himself. He sent a questioning pulse down the bond the two shared, huffing when he received no response. Resigned, he collected up a few data pads from his desk and pushed out of his chair, heading for the door.

The past two weeks had been full of action for the Autobot army. Megatron had launched a total of 4 raids across the country, successfully managing to obtain hundreds of additional energon cubes. The extra energon cubes would give the Decepticon army and unacceptable advantage in battle, or for any other nefarious plans they might consider.

He nodded to Bluestreak as the gunner passed him the corridor, his attention briefly drawn away from his internal reflection, before returning.

There was a meeting scheduled for the following morning, for all the officers aboard the Ark to discuss their next plan of action. And so, Prowl wondered, why it was that his leader wanted to discuss the matter with him personally beforehand.

He arrived outside of Optimus Prime’s office and the door whisked open. He strode inside, door wings held high with casual confidence.  

“You wanted to see me, Sir.”

The larger mech’s attention was focused on Prowl. “Yes, come in. Shut the door please.”

Prowl did so, stopping at the opposite side of the desk that dominated the small room.

“Here is my report,” he handed the data pad over, “Though I don’t know why this couldn’t have waited until—mmph!” He was silenced by a pair of soft lips colliding with his, greedy and demanding. It was then that Optimus opened his side of the bond, flooding the link with his lust, accented with a rev of his engine.

_Ah_ , this explained the impromptu meeting.

Prowl pulled away, panting. “What are you doing?” He hissed. “If someone hears us!“

“Let them hear.” The Prime ignored him, bodily pulling him onto the desk and pawing at his panel. The smaller mech jerked, attempting to clamp down on his own desire, and his pesky cooling fans.

“What are you controlled by your interface array? I didn’t spend millennia of this war hiding who you are to me only to—“ Optimus implemented his earlier trick, pulling the smaller mech into another kiss, deeper this time, as well as reaching up to fondle his door wings.

**That’s cheating** , Prowl whined over their bond.

**You complaining?** came the playful reply.

Breaking away again, Prowl was breathless. “Don’t you –ah!— want to talk about my proposal report –nngh!” They both knew it wasn’t a serious objection. He was losing the battle. There was a snick as Prowl’s valve cover opened, the first drops of lubricant making themselves known.

“Reports can wait,” Optimus said, grinning at his partner’s gasp as he flicked his glowing external node. “It has been far too long. I’ve missed you.”

The two traded more kisses, servos roaming each other’s frames as their cooling fans blasted in the quiet room. Optimus’ freed his spike, allowing it to stand tall between them as he carefully prepared his SIC, savouring every moan he could draw out of him.

“You’re so beautiful,” his voice was deep, whispering into Prowl’s audial, “When Megatron accepts the truce, I’m going to take an entire day off to worship you.”

“What?” The blissful haze cleared from the tactician’s faceplate. He stared at his leader. “We need to damage their space bridge, there’s no way he would agree to a temporary truce.”

Optimus froze, two servos still seated inside of the smaller bot. “Wait, that’s your proposal? I thought you were going to persuade them not to conduct more raids.”

Prowl scoffed at this, any hint of pleasure gone. “Absolutely not, do you really think the _Megatron_ can be reasoned with.”

“Yes.” The reply was clipped, and Optimus immediately regretted it. After a moment of hesitation Prowl slammed his side of the bond shut, pulling off of his leader’s servo and climbing down from the desk.

Optimus reached out, trying to stop him, “No, Prowl – Come on, don’t go.”

The mech in question un-subspaced a cloth and swiped at the lubricant on his thighs. Subspacing it again, no trace of his debauchery left, he looked up at Optimus with an unreadable expression.

“I will see you tomorrow, Sir.” And with that, he left.

 

Optimus stared at the door his mate had just exited through in disbelief. His second in command may be passionate about his work, but that was just unreasonable.

His gaze shifted to the still hardened length between his legs. Letting out a gust of air through his vents, he sent Teletraan a command to lock the door, and grabbed hold of it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> silly silly bots shooting themselves in the pedes.

Prowl pointedly avoided Optimus’ gaze, as he sat down at his customary place at the meeting room table, directly across from his leader. As usual, the pair were the first to arrive, ordinarily a non-issue. But after the previous night’s altercation, the atmosphere was thick and awkward, both staring but not actually looking at data pads they held.

The unpleasant quiet did not last long however, as minutes later the air was filled with chattering from their fellow officers, as they claimed their own seats around the table. Optimus cleared his intake, and held up a servo to hush them.

“If I could have your attention, let’s get straight down to the business at hand.” There were a few reluctant mumbles at this as the room began to settle. Optimus waited patiently for these to subside before he continued. “Good. I shall start. As you all are aware, recent increases in Decepticon activity, both raids and space bridge movement, have left both factions burnt out, for lack of a better term.”

“Tell me about it, damn fraggers haven’t given us down time for weeks!” Jazz interjected, drawing a chuckle from Blaster who was sat beside him.

“Precisely my point, Jazz,” The Prime acknowledged his subordinate, “We have reached the perfect opportunity to push for a longer lull in the fighting which, naturally, would benefit us more than them.”

Ratchet nodded, adding, “With our direct access to human resources, we could be fully restocked in 3 months, well,” He tutted irritably, “If the humans _actually_ keep to their end of the bargain.”

Ironhide slouched in his chair, “Would be nice to have some time off, I’m too old for this slag.” He pointedly ignored the sniggers his comment produced.

Optimus waved a servo, regaining the room’s attention. “I propose contacting Megatron directly and appealing for a temporary truce. As his army is feeling the same strain ours is, I think it is likely that he will agree. But of course, he would be unaware that this would put the Autobots in a more favourable position than the Decepticon’s once the truce is up. This would give us a major advantage, without having to engage in conflict.”

“I must agree, the extra time would be a marvellous opportunity to catch up on some experiments.” Optimus smiled at Perceptor’s remark. He wasn’t a particularly petty bot, but he did enjoy his suggestions being commended by his officers.

His smile dropped however, as he heard a not-so-quiet ex-vent from across the table. He turned to the origin of the noise. “Is there a problem, Lieutenant?” His tone was a warning, as was his glare. Not that he truly expected Prowl to back down from such a thing, though he wasn’t quite expecting the venom that was spat at him.

“Yes, in fact. Quite frankly, I believe your plan to be naïve and reckless.” There was a notable pause, “Sir.”

No one in the room spoke, looking to their leader expectantly. Well, if his mate was going to play this game. “Reckless? Do you have a better suggestion?”

His SIC was visibly shaking with anger, door-wings hiked high on his back. “Yes, reckless. Do you honestly wish to risk human and Autobot lives on the basis of blind trust in Megatron, a mech who, may I remind you, has been attempting to _murder you_ for hundreds of millennia.”

The slight at Optimus’ ability to protect his crew stabbed deep into his spark. He snapped back, “I should think that after those millions of years, we have a bit more of an understanding of Megatron, than to think of him as some wild animal with no ability to think logically.”

“In which case, you should understand that he would only stay low until his troops were back on their feet enough to fight. He would never submit to your terms! He is no fool, the Decepticons are perfectly aware of our relations with the humans.”

 “Calm the frag down.” Ratchet’s stern voice dragged the pair back to their surroundings, and the stunned expressions on their comrade’s faceplates. “Primus, you two argue worse than an old bonded couple.”

Prowl felt his tanks curl in worry. They were usually so cautious about revealing the true nature of their relationship. He stared at the table-top, working his intake. It took Optimus everything he had not to jerk at Ratchet’s insinuation. How could he have lost control like that! It was times like this he was incredibly grateful to have his facemask in place.

“Not gon’ lie, I’m with Prowler on this one boss-bot.” Trust Jazz to bring back a discussion. “Megs ain’t a reasonable kinda mech. What exactly is your plan, oh-master-tactician?” Prowl rolled his optics at his antics, which only made Jazz grin, but he answered him anyway.

“I suggest a tactical incursion, on the Decepticon’s space bridge. As we are aware, the space bridge is the Decepticon’s primary method for the transportation of energon and more vitally, technology. Take this out, preferably with incendiary power, and we can guarantee a peaceful 5 months, if not longer to recuperate our losses. It is the most sure-fire way to ensure a rest period.”

Murmurs of agreement filled the room. Wheeljack was nodding, his helm fins flashing an enthusiastic yellow. “I could definitely fix something up for that plan.”

“How would this affect security?” Red Alert piped up, notoriously hard to please when it came to plans of attack.

“If anything,” Prowl began, “Security would be stronger. With the Decepticon’s distracted, it is less likely than Prime’s suggestion that any forces would be dispatched to the Ark.” He finished explaining, pleased with Red Alert’s reluctant nod of approval.

“I reckon it’s time to vote!” Jazz announced, spotlight shifting to him. “All those in favour of boss-bot’s plan?” Only Ratchet raised his servo, sour expression belaying his mood. “Mmkay, and for Prowlers’?” The rest of the bots seated; Ironhide, Wheeljack, Red Alert, Perceptor, Blaster and Jazz himself, raised their servos, sealing the decision. Jazz’s faceplate broke into a huge smile. “Prowl’s plan it is.”

The tactician did his best not to look as smug as he felt. He crossed his arms underneath his bumper and leaned back into his seat, holding his door wings at a more relaxed angle. “Thank you. I will ping all the necessary battle formations and timings for you to brief your departments. Study them closely. Tomorrow at 10:00 hours, I will call a ship wide meeting to go over this in more detail and to assemble supplies. Does anyone have any further questions?” He paused, giving enough time to allow anyone to speak, should they wish to.

Optimus had been stewing silently as Prowl had been speaking. Did his idiotic mate not see how dangerous a move this was? Why wouldn’t he listen to him! Frustrated beyond control, he unleashed his unbridled emotions across the table at his SIC. “So you would rather risk casualties in battle for your temporary gratification? Soldier’s _lives_ are not your plaything, Prowl.”

That wiped the confident smirk off of the black-and-white’s face. The Prime’s satisfaction lasted for only a moment however, as a torrent of pain erupted from the smaller bot, strong enough to bleed over their closed bond. There had been rumours spread throughout the Autobot forces for centuries, that their stoic tactician was a sparkless drone. How else could he stomach sending good mech’s to their deaths like it was nothing? He played the part well, but Optimus knew Prowl on a much deeper level, he saw just how sensitive he was to his job and their criticism. He was the one to see behind that perfect mask.

He opened his intake, desperate to retract what he had said, but was stopped before he could begin.

“I know that. I do my best to protect them, Sir.” Prowl spat, and his vocaliser cracked. “At least I am willing to prioritise those lives over that of the enemy’s.” His words slammed into Optimus like a physical blow, intensified by just who those words came from.

“Out of line, soldier.”

“So, write me up.” In an uncharacteristic move, Prowl got up and left the meeting room without another word, shrugging off Jazz’s concerned arm that reached for him. Optic fluid prickled and burned, threatening to spill over and down his faceplate. Prowl refused to let it out until he was safely behind the door of his habsuite, where he collapsed onto his berth, sobbing silently into the pillows.

Back in the meeting room, Optimus’ spark ached at the altercation. The other bots present were shifting awkwardly, not quite sure where to keep their optics after the dramatic display from their top two officers. The Prime quickly dismissed them. He remained seated however, optics glazed over, he stared at nothing in particular for what felt like hours. He felt his bond with Prowl, so cold and empty between them. Only then did he let himself cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might have gone a touch dramatic with this, but what's fanfiction if its not self serving.  
> I really appreciate all your comments :)


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